


On Pointe

by Buffo827



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Oral Sex, Strap-Ons, Useless Lesbians, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buffo827/pseuds/Buffo827
Summary: Non-magical College AU.Adora has wanted to be a ballerina since her foster mother of 12 years, Angella, took her to her first class.Catra just wants a way out.Their paths cross as roommates at Brightmoon Academy, a fine-arts college with very high standards.AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES.(Oh my god they were roommates)
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	1. On The Stairs

Nobody in their right mind would claim that the arts were easy. Particularly not after they’d taken as much as one walk through the halls of Brightmoon Academy, a top tier college of the arts that required not one, but four auditions and interviews before anyone was even invited to apply.  
  


Adora “She-Ra” Goodman had been through five. Coming from the foster care system and into a scholarship program was never the easiest, but she had a killer essay and the kid could dance like no one’s business. Her foster-mother, Angella, had put her biological child Glimmer and Adora both through ballet lessons until they aged out, and Adora had chosen to continue where her sister Glimmer had taken up acting.  
  


Now, the two of them were headed off to school together. Adora was beside herself. This was really happening! She had a shot at being a professional and this was the best stepping stone she could ask for.  
  


She’d received a letter right behind her acceptance that told her she would be roommates with another foster kid, someone named Catra Weaver. _Weird name._ She thought, but she wasn’t one to judge. It said she was a Fine Arts major, and they’d even included a couple of pictures from her portfolio. It was impressive.

Their sendoff was tearful and loving, their mother holding her girls close and reminiscing on when Adora had first come home to stay with them at only six. Adora did her part, acting like any embarrassed 18 year old headed off to college, but when Glimmer (who really was embarrassed) wasn’t looking, she pressed her face into her mom’s shoulder and let herself cry for just a split second before she jumped into Glimmer’s hatchback and they were gone.

* * *

Brightmoon would be her savior. Of that, Catra had no doubt. Her home was a nightmare, so surely anything outside of her foster mother’s walls would be like paradise. 

She had a plan.  
  


Go to school. Make a friend she could stand enough to stay with over the holidays. Do better in college than she had in High School. Graduate. Get the fuck out for good. 

She had her mail forwarded to her friend Scopria’s house, knowing Shadow would likely throw out any news she got, positive or not, but she hadn’t really expected to hear back. She’d been working on her portfolio for years now. She had everything they could have been looking for. Self portraits of Catra herself at the heavy bag in Scorpia’s gym. Anatomy studies. Still lifes. Fantastical beasts, demons. She’d even done a lifesize mural of the Madonna, her halo crooked and broken. 

But still, she wasn’t sure she’d make it in. 

That’s why, when Scorpia stepped off her bus waving a letter, Catra had assumed she’d got her rugby scholarship and it had nothing to do with her. She smiled softly when the larger girl came in for the hug, scooping her off her feet and squeezing her into a bearhug she didn't ask for.

"Wildcat! You got a letter from Brightmoon!

_What?_ That couldn’t be right. 

She snatched it out of her hand and tore into it, staring at it in shock.  
  


"Holy shit..."

There was no send-off. No tender goodbyes, just a new burn on her leg that would take weeks to heal and her belongings piled into one ratty duffle bag and backpack. On her way out, she called the cops to anonymously report the bag of coke she herself had found taped under the lid of the breadbox.

* * *

Everything was perfect.  
  


The drive from their hometown to Brightmoon was only an hour for Glimmer and Adora, and it was smooth going getting onto campus, even with hundreds of other students moving in for the year. Parking pass and room keys acquired, the sisters made their way into their shared dorm building.  
  


Glimmer’s roommate was already in her room, a flowery soft-spoken Foreign Languages major named Perfuma. Adora stayed long enough to lift down their bunked bed and make it into two twins before eagerly going one floor up to find her own room.  
  


What greeted her in the hallway gave her pause. There was a girl trying to haul her duffle bag up the stairs, one step at a time. It wasn’t the inconvenient method of transport that stopped her, but the appearance of the girl herself. She had dark, untamed curls that fell over caramel-colored shoulders where her red flannel button-down had slipped off over her tank top in her struggle with the bag. When she paused to huff a breath, she looked up and Adora’s chest tightened. 

She had never seen eyes like that. 

One a sweet honey brown, and the other an icy blue. She looked like one of those fancy cats Glimmer followed on Instagram. 

Shaking off the gay panic, Adora hurried over, putting on a friendly smile. 

“Hey, want some help with that?”

The girl just scoffed, and when she spoke her voice was rough. Adora wondered if she smoked. 

“I got it. Thanks, Blondie.”  
  


“Actually, it’s Adora.”  
  


“Blondie it is.” 

The girl managed to clear the last step, but the swing of her duffle and the weight of her backpack sent her spinning, nearly falling right back down the steps. Adora hurried to catch her, a hand shooting out to grab her waist. 

“Careful you could have--”

_“Don’t touch me!”_

The girl’s voice had changed. There was something behind it now that Adora hadn’t ever had to worry about. 

_Fear._

Before Adora could process, the girl had pulled away and was dragging her bag up the hall. 

_Oh, no. That’s my room._

* * *

Brightmoon was way too much.  
  


From the moment she stepped off the third bus of the day that had finally brought her to campus, Catra had been miserable. There were shiny, happy, right kids bouncing all over the place, and grinning campus guides in pink polos were trying to stop her at every turn.  
  


She’d managed to check-in and got her key, getting a look from the RA at her state of dress. She’d been wearing the same clothes for three days now, having failed to find a rest stop or gas station she felt safe changing in.  
  


She just shouldered her backpack and kept going.  
  


The building she was told she would be living in was swimming with other freshmen girls, some already running around in cliques and pairs, laughing and bouncing their buns and ponytails up and down the halls.  
  


Catra was on the third floor. Doable. She walked up to the elevator, only to find it full of ballerinas comparing pointe shoes. Stairs it was.  
  


For as little as she owned, her bag seemed to weigh a ton. It must have been the oil paints. She made it up the first flight of stairs without issue, glad to find the stairwell empty. It was as she reached her floor she met with trouble in the form of a tall, broad, blonde. She had to be at least six inches taller than Catra's meager 5'1" and when she turned to her, her eyes were the brightest shade of ocean blue that Catra had ever seen.   
  


She wanted to paint a whole canvas in only that blue.  
  


Catra hoped she wasn’t too red in the face, panting slightly as she pulled her bag up a few more steps. She was painfully aware of her B.O.

“Hey, want some help with that?”

_Jesus, this chick even sounds like a ray of sunshine._

“I got it. Thanks, Blondie.”

  
“Actually, it’s Adora.”  
  


“Blondie it is.” 

_What kind of name was Adora? At least Catra was short for something._

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t think before she yanked her bag up the last few steps. Her worn-down converse slipped on the linoleum and she started to fall. She had already braced for impact when a warm, broad hand met her waist, keeping her from tumbling and breaking her face. 

“Careful you could have--”

_“Don’t touch me!”_

It was the wrong reaction, and she knew it, but that hand on her waist had stirred up memories she’d rather not think about. The touch itself hadn’t been the problem, but what had followed. Before she could make herself apologize, Catra took off, pulling her bag up the hall toward room 307. The blonde amazon was still watching her.

She grumbled and fished her key out, turning to see handwritten _name tags_ of all things on the door.  
  


In a paper cutout of a tiger, her own name smiled back at her _Catrina “Catra” Weaver- Fine Arts._ But there. 

Underneath hers.  
  


In a happy, heart-eyed golden retriever.  
  


_Adora Goodman. Ballet._

Catra turned to look at the blonde behemoth and it suddenly all made sense.  
  


_Oh, Fuck me._


	2. Food For Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra is hungry and Adora is thirsty. That's it. That's the chapter.

They made it through the first night, largely because Glimmer and Perfuma came to collect Adora for dinner in the dining hall. 

The Sunshine Puppy (as Catra had dubbed her in her head) had invited her along, but she just ignored it, hastening to get her towel and book it to the showers. 

Hot water she didn't have to pay for was her new favorite luxury. She stood under the stream as long as she could stand it, scrubbing herself until all traces of her former life were gone. 

It finally settled into her bones that she would never have to return to that cramped, filthy house. She was going to sleep in a real bed, with real pillows and a thick, warm blanket provided by Brightmoon. No more mattress on the floor with makeshift bedding.

Her stomach grumbled, but she hadn’t been to the Dean’s office to get her meal plan card yet. She’d arrived late, thanks to her delayed bus, and he had closed his office for the day by the time she asked where she could eat. The Handy Helper who she’d talked to seemed to think she should be able to pull cash out of nowhere and just pay for her dinner upfront.

When she was slightly pink all over and finally in clean clothes, she sat down with her sketchbook, letting her hand move as it wanted to. Eyes and hairdos turned into busts, and then a full-blown posed image. Eventually, she realized she was looking at sketches of Adora. Big, bright eyes shone from each little expression and Catra… hated them.

She turned the page roughly, ready to start again. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


When they'd made it to the dining hall, Adora finally felt like she could breathe. There was something overwhelming and heavy about her new roommate that she couldn't quite put her finger on. 

Glimmer announced loudly that she thought Catra was creepy and standoffish. Adora wasn't so sure. 

“Just give her time. Who knows what her foster experience was like. We can't all get awesome sisters out of it.”

Perfuma was sweet enough, if not a bit airheaded, and she offered them weed which Glimmer jumped on immediately. Adora politely passed, wanting to be at her best to meet her new dance coaches. 

They hung out for a while in the cafeteria, chatting with some other freshman. They met another ballet major named Bow, who Glimmer seemed immediately taken with. He seemed equally smitten, sitting as close as he could manage to the pink-haired pixie. When they all started to filter back to their dorms, Adora stood up to say goodnight. It was almost nine, the cafeteria would close soon.

She turned to go and was met with  _ those eyes.  _

“Catra! H-hey…”

Catra raised an eyebrow and dangled a set of keys in her face. 

“Forget something? I'm hungry. You owe me. You coulda been locked out.”

Owed her? Hungry? She looked her roomate over and noticed that this set of clothes was as loose on her as her earlier one had been, the black sweatpants she'd donned threatening to slip off her hips. Adora was suddenly worried that her roommate wasn't thin because of her metabolism as she’d assumed, but because she wasn't eating.  _ Or wasn’t being fed. _

“Sure! Come on, let's get you something.”

Glimmer was glaring from their table. Adora could feel it on the back of her head, but she ignored it. She’d hear whatever her sister had to say about it later.

“You didn't get a meal plan? Mine came with my scholarship.”

Catra sniffed sharply, rubbing her nose. 

“Maybe I just wanted you to buy me dinner.” 

_ Oh no. _

Logically, Adora knew when those dark eyelashes fluttered her way she was being teased. Was it that obvious how… horrendously queer she was?

She tried to laugh it off, but the laughter came out louder than she intended and caused one of Catra's thin, dark eyebrows to raise in some semblance of amusement. 

_ Well, that didn't help. _

* * *

  
  


Adora was cute.

There was no real point in denying it. Catra absolutely stood by her puppy comparison, she was like a big… buff… retriever. Her mind drifted to their door and she wondered how whoever had written the nametags could have gotten them pinned so accurately.

Catra just shook her head. It wasn't that funny, but she liked the loud guffaw it pulled from her roommate. 

She ordered herself an entree and a dessert, not minding going all out if it was on Adora's dime.

“So… where are you from?”

Catra looked back at Adora, all amusement wiped from her face. 

“Small talk? Really? Here's a real conversation starter. How  _ fucked _ is it that they went ‘oh, two lonely fucked up foster kids! We can put them together!’ Come on, Adora.”

She put a hand on the taller girl’s arm. 

“Are you feeling like we're  _ found family?  _ Because it seems to me like you pulled the fucking foster lottery.”

Adora scowled, but Catra couldn't be bothered to care if she'd offended her. She took her food, thanking the cook — she was a bitch, not a monster– and immediately shoved a chicken finger in her mouth. 

She waved another at Adora in thanks and strutted right back out of the cafeteria. 

Adora had to sit down. Her heart seemed to be practicing pirouettes without her. 

* * *

  
  


The first week of classes was awful for all involved. The same ice breakers were played again and again, and most of the freshmen were still feeling the after-affects of the local frat’s welcome party.    
  


Neither Catra nor Adora attended.    
  


Catra had managed to make a friend in her Dynamic Character Design class, a weird chick named Entrapta who was studying to build animatronics for theme parks. She liked her well enough to study with her, and with Adora constantly in the practice studios, Catra felt free to have her over.    
  


Apparently, that was the wrong call.    
  


Adora had come home on their second Tuesday of classes, saw Entrapta laying on Catra’s bed, and immediately leaped to conclusions. 

“Oh, cool. Not even a sock on the door?”   


  
Catra looked up, confused, and raised an eyebrow.    
  


“Why would I put a sock on the door? We’re studying.”

“If you say so.” Adora tossed her dance bag aside and snapped up her shower bag - Catra would never understand the need to organize her life the way Adora did-- and stormed out.    
  


Catra sighed and asked Entrapta to leave, promising that Adora wasn’t mad at her, and no she didn’t do anything wrong she just needed a minute to talk to her roommate one on one.    
  
_ What is her damage? _

* * *

  
  


_ What is her problem? _

Sure, Adora hadn’t expressly asked Catra not to have people in the room, but she thought that maybe she’d made it clear that she needed time and space to cool off after studio time. Having strangers in her space hindered that greatly. 

Not to mention, she didn’t know who this girl was. Entrapta, obviously. They’d met more than once, but who was she to  _ Catra? _

Adora stayed in the shower much longer than her usually careful 10 minutes, thinking through why exactly it bothered her so much. Catra could have a girlfriend. Obviously. Adora would be completely okay with that except that… she wouldn’t. 

In the short time they’d been living together, Adora had done her best to be understanding. Catra seemed to have some personality quirks that were hard to explain. The girls had butted heads over small things like where the laundry hamper they shared should go, what kind of coffee creamer to buy (Catra liked sickeningly sweet-flavored crap while Adora preferred straight half and half) and now….

Adora let out a frustrated sound, pressing her forehead to the cool tile of the shower wall. Catra was… a point of conflict for Adora herself. She had zero shame about being gay, and she'd always been open about liking who she liked, but with Catra there were too many lines she could cross by actively pursuing her. 

Maybe they could talk. 

Adora could only imagine where a conversation like that might lead, and she quickly looked around the bathroom to ensure she was alone before she even dared.

In her mind’s eye, Catra understood. She knew exactly why Adora had been acting so weird, and she wanted to fix it. 

_ “Oh, Adora. It's okay. I know it can be hard to get so attached so fast.” _

_ Adora nodded, reaching out to pull Catra into her. The brunette would go easily, her hands sliding up Adora's sides as they finally pressed together.  _

_ “I just want to help. I've heard your nightmares.” _

_ Catra sniffled and draped herself over Adora's— _

**_No. That wasn't right._ **

Adora groaned and tried again. 

_ Catra smirked and shrugged her shoulders. “Life's a bitch and then you die.”  _

**_Better._ **

_ Catra slipped her hands up into Adora's hair, pulling it out of its usual ponytail to wrap her long, delicate fingers in the blonde locks.  _

_ “You know what might make it bearable, though?” _

The bathroom door opened and Adora's hand snapped away from where it was headed. She needed sleep. 

By the time she got back to the dorm, Catra was asleep, or pretending to be, curled up on her bed in the closest corner to the wall. 

Adora sighed and rubbed her face. The fantasy and conversation could both wait.

* * *


	3. How Hard Could It Be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora is mad. Catra is stupid. Angry dancing and pining occurs.

Catra left early for class, for once getting to her eight-o-clock on time, coffee in hand. However, she found it difficult to focus on the lecture about job applications or whatever it was because her hand had once again started to draw Adora.

Since moving in with the blonde, she found it nearly impossible to draw what she usually would. Gone were the succubuses and fawns, replaced by tall, blonde, and confusing in every style, shape, and costume she could work up for her. 

There was now a page of her sketchbook entirely dedicated to Adora as a kind of superhero, a proud smile on her face, hands on hips. Catra considered it for a moment, scowling down at the flowing cloak that branched from her shoulders. What was this even about? Did she have some kind of complex now?

The rest of her day passed in a similar fashion, her mind unable to focus on what it should have and instead thinking over how Adora had looked almost betrayed when she'd come home the night before. 

Who did she think she was? Catra only had one friend. It wasn't like she was hosting a party. 

_ Not even a sock on the door? _

Suddenly, the situation dawned on her. Adora thought she was sleeping with… Catra actually laughed out loud, startling the girl next to her into scooting one desk over.

Adora was an idiot. 

Catra turned back to the page of spandex-clad Adoras. It wasn’t really that far off from the kind of thing she saw her go to and from dance class in. 

_ Bike shorts on butches should be illegal.  _ Catra thought. She often forgot entirely that Adora was at Brightmoon to become a ballerina. She seemed to be better built for something physically combative like soccer or rugby, which Catra had spent her high school years watching her now-ex Scorpia play. Adora could easily throw a few elbows. 

That train of thought led to even more doodling, this time Scorpia herself made an appearance, her bright grin and short hair offering an edge next to Adora’s soft features. 

_ I should really give her a call.  _

* * *

__

Adora’s first dance teacher, Madame Razz, had always told her students that they could get through any hardship with enough stretching first. In retrospect, the woman seemed far too old and a little bit crazy for having been in charge of dozens of children day-to-day, but Adora had loved her like another parent. 

So, when she got stressed, she turned to the advice Razz had always offered. 

_ Remember, dearie. When in doubt, just dance it out! _ _   
_ _   
_

As she’d grown through her dance career with Razz, the advice changed and her classes got few and far between, her daughter Mara taking over most of the time until Razz had passed away Adora’s Junior year.    
  


She missed her today, especially, with her mind racing between anger, hurt, and regret. She knew full well that she was bad at apologizing, but it was a skill she’d never needed to improve on. It didn't help that she felt she hadn't done anything wrong. Not yet, at least.   
  


It was rare that she did _anything_ wrong.    
  


As it was, it had been three silent, awkward days of Adora and Catra not speaking to one another. Catra’s nightmares seemed to be worse than before, the whimpering and crying out becoming more frequent. Adora had almost woken her the night before, but she didn’t the intrusion want to somehow make things worse. 

She sighed and dropped down to touch her toes, bouncing slightly as she stretched the backs of her legs. After two classes and a rehearsal for the first show of the year, her muscles protested further use, but the excuse of staying away from Catra was beyond inviting. 

Adora felt ready to perform, but it could never hurt to go over something again. She was precise and organized in every aspect of her life. Dance was no different.    
  


She finished her stretched and pushed play on her smartwatch, cueing up the sound system.  _ Diana _ began to play.    
  


In the center of the room, Adora took her stance, easily sliding onto pointe as she had for years now. She was focused less on the steps, having memorized them smoothly, and she was now focused on the emotion behind the piece.    
  


In the myth, the poor hunter Acteon stumbles across the goddess Diana, in this case, played by Adora herself, bathing naked in a spring. In retribution, Diana’s father Zeus turns the hunter into a stag, and he is then killed by his own pack of dogs. The ballet however casts the two teenagers as unlikely lovers, the very variation Adora had chosen to perform one of the few times the Goddess was alone on stage.    
  


Adora found herself wishing they’d stuck to the story as she bent forward, her back foot coming up to nearly touch her head.    
  


She lost her footing halfway through and had to start over.    
  


After that, she stumbled over a simple change of balance and cursed loudly as she flopped onto flat feet. 

Third time’s charm brought her all the way to the end of the variation with her eyes closed so she could focus. What she didn’t see was her estranged roommate sneaking into the practice studio, an eyebrow raised and a blush on slowly creeping over her cheeks.    
  


* * *

Watching Adora dance could inspire entire murals for Catra. In fact, given space and funding, she might be able to recreate a kind of Sistine Chapel, the ceiling covered in delicately painted red tulle from the tutu her roommate practiced in.    
  


When the music stopped, Catra clapped on instinct, making Adora’s head snap around to look at her. 

“Catra! What are you doing here?”   
  


_ Oh.  _

Adora was still mad, and in a cruel act of nature, the scowl she shot Catra’s way went straight between her thighs.    
  


“I wanna talk. It kinda sucks trying to avoid you.”   
  


Adora scoffed and shook her head, wiggling out of her tutu and going to get her water bottle. From where she was awkwardly hovering at the door, Catra could see a bead of sweat travel past Adora’s cheek and roll down her neck.    
  


Catra swallowed roughly and her filter completely abandoned her.    
  


“Why are you sweating?”   
  


Adora paused with her water bottle to her lips. 

“Excuse me?”   
  


“I mean you were just dancing, right?”   
  


There was a heavy pause as Adora turned to stare at her. Oh no… the scowl had gotten deeper, the corners of her mouth turned down in disapproval.    
  
  
_ “ _

_ Just dancing?” _

  
  


“Well, yeah… I mean. I had a friend who did ballet when we were little, she said her mom just sent her to get her out of the house…”

* * *

_ Who the hell does she think she is? _

Adora held out her hands, curling her fingers in the universal symbol for  **_come at me._ **

“Okay, Weaver. Let’s talk. But you’re gonna dance while we do it.” 

“What?”

“I think you heard me, Catra.”

She picked up her phone, clearly looking for something specific.

“Dancing is easy right? So you shouldn’t have a problem following along. “

With a swipe of Adora’s thumb, a spoken introduction for some Russian ballerina dancing  _ La Esmeralda  _ blared through the speakers.    
  


“Hurry up.”    
  
  


* * *

Between the hands on her hips and the authoritative tone, Catra was ready to do anything Adora asked of her. She hurried to shed her flannel and combat boots, thinking it would be easier that way. 

She copied Adora’s positioning, her arms not quite as gracefully curved as her roommate’s. She stood up on her tiptoes, barely coming up to Adora’s shoulder as the blonde popped up onto her pointe shoes. Catra winced. 

“Don’t those things hurt?”   
  


“Is that what you want to talk about?”   
  


Catra sneered up at her. 

“Fine. I want to talk about Tuesday.”   
  


The music picked up and Adora was off, taking long, elegant strides on her toes only to stop on one foot and bring the other back over her head, touching an imaginary tambourine with her toes. 

Catra scrambled to follow, thankful that she’d done gymnastics after school for once in her life. She managed the bend, though she was slower and not quite as smooth as her counterpart.    
  


“I don’t know why you’re mad at me.” She said, glancing at Adora in the wall of mirrors they now faced.    
  


Adora’s leg swung out, once again reaching up and over her head, the opposite arm raised as she turned her face away from Catra, following the choreography she remembered from middle school, the last time she’d performed this solo.    
  


Catra cursed as her ankle wobbled when she tried to repeat the motions, feeling thoroughly betrayed by her skinny jeans.    
  


“Anyway. Entrapta is my friend. She’s like… my only friend. ‘Cept you I guess.”    
  


Adora was doing that smooth walk and turn again, and Catra temporarily forgot what she was supposed to be doing.    
  


“She’s not my… girlfriend or anything. I don’t know why you’d care if she was. We aren’t even fucking!”   
  


The music had changed, picking up in pace, and Adora was spinning, marking her place perfectly each time she came back around. Catra attempted one and promptly slipped in her sock feet, crashing to the floor with a loud shout.    
  


Adora kept on dancing like nothing had happened, ending the performance in a perfect split on the studio floor. 

Catra glared at her, her chest heaving with exertion from the impromptu showing-up she’d received.    
  


“So you’re not talking to me, or what?”   
  


Finally, those big blue eyes turned her way as Adora neatly tucked her legs under herself to stand up.    
  


She stood over Catra, and the brunette couldn't help the way her eyes roamed over her body, taking in the definition of her muscles now that she was practically straddling her.

“Just text me next time. I like to know who’s in our space.”

With that, she shouldered her dance bag and picked up her tutu, turning tail and leaving with her pointe shoes still on. 

Catra flopped onto the wooden floor and tried to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There they go, flirtin' and shit. They just don't know it yet.
> 
> Next chapter, best girl Scorpia comes to visit and we get to see Catra in her element- stuck between two giant ladies.


	4. I Need A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midterms are upon our girls and family is coming to visit.

Things were better after that, if at least marginally. Catra made sure to text Adora if Entrapta was coming over, and likewise if she was going to be gone for an evening. Adora made sure not to try talking to Catra when she was at her easel, having learned quickly that that meant she was  _ in the zone.  _

Days turned into weeks, and soon the girls were scrambling toward their first midterms. Angella was due in Monday night when she wanted to take both her daughters and their roommates out to dinner. Tuesday, Adora was dancing Diana in her showcase. Thursday was the start of Thanksgiving break, and Catra had no idea where she was going to stay for the week while the school was closed, but Wednesday she was expected to be at her gallery exhibition, which she had invited Scorpia up to see and told absolutely no one else about. 

There was an excellent reason behind this, and it stemmed from a conversation she’d overheard at dinner between Glimmer, Adora, and Glimmer’s new beaux. Bow. (Catra had snickered to herself the first time that gem had come to her, though she hadn’t had a chance to use it yet.)

Adora had been explaining that she had danced from six years old, and her sister had laughed over how she’d earned her competition nickname. A bulky, square-shaped kid, one of Adora’s first ballet judges had described her as looking like a barbarian in a tutu. Thus, The All-Powerful She-Ra was born.    
  


Glimmer and Bow had laughed over the story while Adora loudly denounced the judge, claiming she had absolutely killed that performance, while all Catra could think about was the superhero-Adora hiding in her sketchbook.    
  


She’d gone home and made plans for the fall showcase.    
  


Now, she was in the hall where the gallery was going to be held, putting the final pieces on her entry. At 8 feet tall, the painting was imposing, An absolute Amazon of a woman in white and gold, a crimson red cape spilling from her shoulders, she seemed to have an impossible amount of golden hair, barely contained by winged headdress.    
  


Catra had ended up basing the outfit around the costume Adora had brought home for her Diana number, a short flowing skirt over tight shorts that gave her superhero room to move. Over her shoulder, she held a massive sword, a blue gem in the hilt that matched the giant’s piercing blue eyes.    
  


Catra was just finishing the lettering on which the woman stood, an 80’s graffiti-style lettering of the hero’s name. 

**_She-Ra: Princess of Power._ **

Catra couldn’t think of a better analogy. 

It wasn’t until she heard familiar voices behind her that she thought to cover the painting. Heavy footfalls were coming her way, and she quickly scrambled to pull the drape that would hide her masterpiece until the big night.    
  


“Wild Cat! Oh, gosh I missed you so much! Commere!”

Catra tossed her paintbrush just in time to be literally swept off her feet, flailing slightly as Scorpia hefted her up into her arms.    
  


“Scorpia! Put me down!”   
  


“No can do there, best friend. I have months of hugs to make up for.”   
  


Over her massive friend’s shoulder, she could see Adora giggling into her hands. Catra shot her a playful glare.    
  


“Ya know, maybe my roommate would like a hug, S.”   
  


Adora held up her hands. “Oh, I already got one. As thanks for guiding her to you. Lucky you.”   
  


Catra rolled her eyes, finally managing to slip out of Scorpia’s arms to jump up onto Adora.    
  


“Maybe you need another!”   
  


This had become a common occurrence in their dorm, so Adora was ready. It had begun when Catra went to a party in Entrapta’s apartment building and had stumbled back to the dorm drunk off her ass. Poor Adora had been coming up from the basement with her laundry when Catra jumped from the first floor landing and onto her back, demanding a piggyback ride up to their room.    
  


Adora laughed and spun, making Catra lose her grip on her shoulders. The brunette stumbled back, laughing.    
  


Scorpia looked between the two of them, her hands slowly raising to cover her mouth as though she’d just realized something amazing.    
  


Catra shot her a look.  _ Don’t. _

She jumped slightly when she felt a touch to her cheek, her eyes going wide as they jerked back onto her roommate.    
  


“How do you get paint on your face? I swear you’re gonna find it somewhere lewd one of these days.”

Adora was smiling at Catra in a fond, soft way that made her heart rate shoot up through the roof. As much as wanted to lean into that touch and purr, she made herself pull away, wiping her face on her sleeve and transferring more paint onto herself in the process. 

“That ship has sailed.” Piped in Scorpia and Adora turned to look at her in surprise.    
  


“When Catra and I were dating we did this thing where--”

Catra threw a paintbrush at her. “ **_Scorpia._ ** ”

Her ex looked appropriately bashful. “Sorry. Forgot we don’t talk about that.”

Adora just grinned, looking at Catra with slightly wide, intrigued eyes. 

“Hey, Scorpia. How would you like to come to dinner with Catra and my family?”

Catra sneered at her roommate, shaking her head, but Scorpia had already turned to Adora with an emotional wobble of her lower lip. 

“Family dinner? We’re in!”

* * *

Catra hadn't been to a family dinner in her entire life. 

As such, she was a lost cause on what to wear or even say, pacing through Scorpia's hotel room with bits and pieces of her wardrobe thrown everywhere.

"Is a button-down too formal? Not enough? I could wear the sleeveless one..."

She held up two bouses, turning to where Scorpia was lounging on the king-sized bed and flipping through social media. 

"Hard call, wild cat. I think we're going pretty casual, though.. so maybe just dress how you usually do."

"That doesn't help me!"

She let out a frustrated sound and tossed both blouses back into her duffle bag. 

"What's wrong with what you're wearing, exactly? You know Adora won't care what you have on."

Catra looked down at the jumpsuit she'd thrown on that morning, a ruddy marron thing she'd had for years now. There were paint stains down the front of it, and her black bralette was easily visible through the loose loops of the arms. 

"The Fromper? I can't! Their mom is like a lawyer or something. I'm trying to make an impression."

Scorpia just shrugged. 

"I like the Fromper. You wore it on our first date."

Catra groaned and ran her hands through her messy curls. "Scorpia, stop reminiscing and just tell me how I look."

"You look like an art major."

* * *

Adora and Glimmer had both gone to the airport to collect their mother, happy to see her after so long apart. The two teens had quickly discovered that life away from mom was a new beast. 

In the car on the way to her hotel, Adora filled Angella in on everything that was happening that week. Glimmer had scenes to perform the afternoon before Ador's showcase, meaning their mom was best suited to staying close to campus. If she decided she wanted to see either roommate's exhibitions, she'd have to practically move into the dorms with them.

Even with so much going on, Angella was pleased to be with her children. She had a calm, steady kind of energy that contradicted those of her daughters, meaning that when she was around, the girls settled. At least a little bit. 

As they were checking into the hotel, Scorpia and Catra came off the elevator. Catra had been in the process of convincing Scorpia to buy her a new outfit from the thrift shop up the street, walking backward out of the elevator and colliding solidly with Glimmer as she went. 

"Hey! Catra!"

The flowers Adora had brought fro Angella wobbled in Glimmer's hands, threatening to fall at any moment. Catra's hands flew to her mouth and she turned a hot pink, embarrassed to be seen in her grungy clothes and to have knocked into the family before the dinner ever started.

"God, Glitsy you gotta pay attention!" 

She wanted it to sound playful, but like much of Catra's attitude, it came out vicious. 

The five women stood there, all exchanging looks for a long, painful moment. Eventually, Catra was forced to give in, wiping her sweaty palm on her romper and holding it out toward the sharply-dressed woman between Adora and her sister. 

"Uh, hey. I'm Catra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to the costume Adora will wear: https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1tUGoj_nI8KJjSszbq6z4KFXah/Professional-Ballet-Costume-Dress-Talisman-gold-white-Cupid-Ballet-Stage-Costume-Diana-And-Acteon-Variation-Ballet.jpg
> 
> Catra's Fromper: https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1213/5500/products/satya-jul2018-1022.jpg?v=1533472362

**Author's Note:**

> Ah... smell that? It's sexual tension.
> 
> Hello and welcome to my first She-Ra fic! Yes, there will be more of this nonsense, they aren't even in the dorm yet. 
> 
> I'm going to try to get a couple of chapters of this up a week, but I have no idea how many chapters I'll end up with so stay tuned! 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr under a-lazy-bear or on discord @ Lore#1706 if you have questions or want to chat! I'd love to hear from you guys. :)


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